


Headfirst Into a Political Abyss

by Willowe



Series: automaton!AU [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, automaton Hamilton, canonically asshole Jefferson, slight body horror of the automaton variety, slight dehumanization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowe/pseuds/Willowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The man is an automaton, seemingly never in need of food or rest, but tirelessly at work at all hours of the day…</i> Madison had written in one of his letters, and Thomas had chuckled at the comparison. </p><p>For James Madison, of all people, to liken someone’s work ethic to that of an automaton… Well. Thomas is certainly interested in meeting this Hamilton character now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headfirst Into a Political Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> The amount of actual historical research I did before writing this? Exactly zero. Unless you count reading the annotations on genius.com as "historical research". We're completely following the musical here (I haven't seen the show but I did try to work off of reports of what the staging was like for their initial meeting). 
> 
> **Slight TW in case it's needed:** Jefferson refers to Hamilton as "it" once he realizes Hamilton is an automaton (more-or-less unconsciously/unintentionally at first, but intentionally and maliciously towards the end). This includes both dialogue, and all narration as this story is from Jefferson's POV.

Thomas Jefferson has, of course, heard of Alexander Hamilton. He has read some of the man’s work, courtesy of Hamilton’s sister-in-law, Mrs. Angelica Church, whom he was fortunate enough to meet while in France, and Madison has written of him on more than on occasion, often with no small amount of annoyance hidden in his words. _The man is an automaton, seemingly never in need of food or rest, but tirelessly at work at all hours of the day…_ Madison had written in one of his letters, and Thomas had chuckled at the comparison.

For James Madison, of all people, to liken someone’s work ethic to that of an automaton… Well. Thomas is certainly interested in meeting this Hamilton character now.

New York City is just as dirty and noisy and busy as Thomas remembers it being. He hasn’t even been in the city for a full day and he already misses the peace and calm of Monticello. But the new government is in New York, at least for now, and so Thomas must remain in New York for the time being. At least his work will keep him busy, and when work fails as a distraction he can always count on catching up with his fellow Virginians.

It is, in fact, his friend and fellow Virginian James Madison who greets Thomas before he can even think of finding President Washington. Madison’s face is troubled, something clearly weighing heavily on his mind, and he dispenses with the required conversational niceties as quickly as he can. “Thomas, are you aware that there is a cabinet meeting today?” he asks without preamble.

“Of course.” Thomas is grateful that the journey north was without incident, and that he reached the city in time for the meeting. “Surely that is not all you are concerned about?” Especially considering that Madison was not, technically, even part of the cabinet and would not have to take part in the meeting- though Thomas does not say as much aloud.

“I am concerned about the subject of the meeting,” Madison tells him. “Secretary Hamilton will be discussing his disastrous financial plan- nothing short of government control, and at the expense of the Southern states most of all. I have been fighting against him on my own for months, but I fear it hasn’t been enough. We _must_ win this, Thomas.”

“And we will,” Thomas says firmly. This is not the first he’s heard of Hamilton’s financial plan, and he has already formed his own opinion against the monstrosity. “I’ll go to Washington now, speak to him privately before the meeting begins-”

“Hamilton is no doubt already with him,” Madison warns him. “You do not want to face Hamilton in a battle of words before the meeting, Jefferson. Debating with him twice in one day is beyond the skills of any man.”

Thomas can’t help but chuckle at that. “I don’t know, James. I would relish the chance to meet this ‘ _automaton’_ before today’s meeting.”

“Thomas, no, you don’t know what you’re getting into…” Madison’s face is troubled, but Jefferson is already chuckling again and making his way down the hall with only the briefest of waves goodbye to his friend.

Thomas has only the vaguest idea of where Washington’s new office is located, but it ultimately doesn’t matter. He rounds a corner quickly and almost runs into the President himself.

“Mr. Jefferson! Welcome home, sir,” Washington greets him warmly.

Thomas is just reaching out to shake Washington’s hand when someone new steps forward, their hand already extended. Thomas looks down at the shorter man and immediately does a double-take because there’s something unnatural about his skin, something not-quite human. And then he sees those _eyes_ …

“Mr. Jefferson-”

…and Thomas can’t stop himself from letting out a startled bark of laughter, cutting off whatever was going to be said. “Mr. President, wherever did you find an automaton in the colonies?”

The automaton goes very, very still and, without waiting for a response from Washington, Jefferson begins to circle around it, studying it from every angle. “The construction is nearly impeccable,” he says, with no small amount of admiration. “But tell me, what is its intelligence level?”

“I can assure you, my mind is unrivaled by nearly any human alive,” the automaton says coldly. “And I would thank you for not speaking of me in this manner.”

Thomas is taken aback by the harshness of the automaton’s words and raises an eyebrow at Washington. “A fine specimen indeed, Mr. President, but I would urge you to take a stronger hand with it. The so-called “fully sentient” ones can be difficult if you are not used to dealing with them.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” the automaton huffs, and Thomas can’t help but chuckle at the show of indignation.

“Mr. Jefferson, that’s quite enough,” Washington says sternly, and even Thomas knows to call it quits when the President takes on that particular tone.

Except that automaton is practically shaking with anger, a wholly inappropriate reaction to the situation, and Thomas can’t resist one final parting shot. “My apologies, Mr. President,” he says smoothly. “I was simply surprised by it’s strong emotional reactions. Hardly as well-behaved as the pretty little automaton that I brought back with me from France, but of course mine is a far more simple thing than yours-”

“ _Enough_ , Jefferson.” Washington doesn’t exactly snap at him, but it is a very near thing. The President has one hand resting on the automaton’s shoulder and though Thomas first assumes it’s a gesture of possessiveness for a treasured object, he realizes a moment later that the automaton’s fists are clenched at it’s sides and that Washington is physically holding it back. “Allow me to introduce the Treasury Secretary, Mr. Alexander Hamilton.”

_What?_

Thomas sees the cool anger in Washington’s eyes, the fiery blaze of rage visible in every fiber of the automaton, and the words from Madison’s letters come back to him- _The man is an automaton_. Thomas had assumed the words were simply an exaggerated comparison, and even now when he’s faced with the reality of the situation he can hardly believe otherwise. “You cannot be serious,” he says to Washington. “Surely there were better men- _real_ men- who could have been Treasury Secretary instead!”

“None who would have been as well-suited to the position as Hamilton,” Washington says firmly. “He is the best choice for this.”

“But it is an _automaton_!”

“And what, exactly, is your point?” Hamilton snaps. “Are you even familiar with my work, with my intellect, or are you choosing to make baseless criticisms simply because I am not human?”

“As a matter of fact, I am familiar with your work,” Thomas tells it.

“And what was your opinion of it?”

Thomas had been impressed with the Federalist Papers when he first read them, before he knew that so many of them were written by a non-human, but he’s not going to admit to that now. Still, the smirk on Hamilton’s face tells him that the automaton can guess as much itself (himself? Thomas shies away from that thought almost as soon as it occurs to him). It irritates Thomas, seeing a look of such smugness directed towards him, and instead of answering Hamilton’s question he responds with one of his own. “How are you even involved in politics? Automatons are made to be owned, not to wander around-”

“Free, like a human?” Hamilton sneers. “I belong to no one, Mr. Jefferson. My legal papers are quite orderly, if you would like to see them.”

Thomas smirks. “I would, actually. Thank you for offering to show them to me.”

Thomas is expecting this to bring an end to the conversation, as it's doubtful that Hamilton would have such documents- if they even exist- on hand. He stifles a laugh as Hamilton clenches its fists in frustration, or perhaps simply more anger, but Thomas is suddenly caught off-guard when the automaton reaches up and pulls its cravat away from its throat.

"What are you-? This is highly inappropriate!" he protests, trying to avert his eyes as Hamilton begins to unbutton its shirt.

Washington heaves a long-suffering sigh and says, "Hamilton, stop it. Both of you, follow me to my office. We will continue this... discussion... in private."

Hamilton doesn’t even bother to make itself look more presentable, just gives Washington a curt nod and practically storms down the hallway towards what Thomas can only presume is the President’s office. This doesn’t seem to make Washington any more annoyed than he already is and Thomas has to bite back the temptation to ask why, exactly, that is. He knows that he is also to blame to the President’s current irritation, and he knows better than to keep pushing his luck at the moment.

Besides, he wouldn’t put it past the damned automaton to have enhanced hearing or some other ability to eavesdrop on what should be a private conversation.

Thomas can feel one of his headaches building as they follow Hamilton to the office in uncomfortable silence. When Thomas pushes open the door he can’t even say that he’s particularly surprised to see that Hamilton is already half out of its shirt. He’s simply accepted that nothing about today is going to follow normal societal conventions, and he’s trying not to think about what that means for the upcoming cabinet meeting.

Instead, he gestures in the vague direction of where Hamilton is standing half-naked and asks Washington, “Is this really necessary, sir?”

“You did say that you wished to see my legal papers for yourself,” Hamilton answers, before Washington can say anything.

Thomas turns to face it, fully intended on asking what that has to do with Hamilton removing its shirt in the middle of the President’s office, but the moment that he looks at Hamilton the automaton smirks at him and slowly, deliberately, begins to peel away a section of skin from its bare chest… and Thomas very nearly loses control of his stomach.

He is immediately torn between saving his dignity and looking away before he vomits at the automaton’s feet, and not wanting to show even that tiniest weakness by avoiding the sight in front of him. He compromises by gritting his teeth and looking over the top of Hamilton’s head, feigning disinterest in the automaton’s gruesome show. Behind him he hears Washington sigh again, as if this is an unfortunately frequent occurrence, and Thomas once again has to wonder why the President is tolerating such childish outbursts and displays from the automaton.

Thomas makes the mistake of glancing down when Hamilton reaches for the now-exposed opening, and he can’t stop himself from gagging at the sight of the automaton’s hand disappearing inside into the tangle of cogs and gears inside its own chest.

“Oh, my apologies,” Hamilton says, but it’s not even trying to hide the smirk on its face or the insincerity of its apology. “But here, Mr. Jefferson, are my legal papers.”

Hamilton pulls out a small bundle of papers, which Thomas takes with so small amount of mistrust. He is half-expecting the papers to be covered in some sort of oil or a similar mess from being hidden literally inside the automaton, but to his surprise they are quite clean, free even from the tiniest of dust particles. Still, he makes a show of untying the string and shaking out the pages, and ignores how Hamilton rolls its eyes as Thomas begins to read the documents.

“Well, everything certainly does seem to be in order,” Thomas says slowly as he reads through the documents. He’s not as disappointed about this as he thought he would be, if only because the documents are a treasure trove of information about the automaton.

Hamilton, he learns, is from the West Indies, created sometime in the 1750s judging from the dates on the earliest papers- it’s remarkable that the automaton is even still functioning, given its age. Later documents give him names of employers, families that Hamilton stayed with, the ship it travelled to the colonies on. Everything gives Thomas a clear picture of the automaton’s life- penniless and alone, facing nearly insurmountable odds just to get to where it is today.

And, Thomas is forced to begrudgingly admit, Hamilton has come far and had many great achievements since it left the West Indies. Thomas can see how that would go to its head, make it mouthy and rude and everything an automaton shouldn’t be. Still, if nothing else, he thinks he has a decent idea of how to knock Hamilton off its game, push its buttons and distract it to the point of self-destruction.

“Well then, I do hope this settles everything,” Washington says firmly. “I expect some level of cooperation between both of you, if we are to lead this country with any degree of success. This sort of arguing will only divide us, and lead to our ruin.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” Thomas says, voice smooth and innocent. Hamilton shoots him a look, as if it suspects some sort of ulterior motive- and it would be right to do so- but it murmurs a quiet agreement as well.

Washington looks between the two of them, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop; he knows as well as they do that this is, if anything, only an uneasy truce. But it seems like he is unwilling to bring attention to that fact because he just nods and says, “Good. The cabinet meeting starts in fifteen minutes. I expect both of you to be present, and-” His eyes flick over to Hamilton. “-properly attired.”

Thomas somehow manages to hold back his laughter until after Washington has left the room, only then dissolving into a fit of chuckles that get him a raised eyebrow and a scowl from the automaton. Thomas scoffs at his reaction and says, “Oh come on, do you honestly not find anything amusing about this situation? I mean, I know this is going to be irritating and end badly, but expecting me to work with the likes of you is just-”

“Did you honestly not know that I am an automaton before you arrived today?” Hamilton interrupts as it tugs its shirt back on.

Well, apparently _rudeness_ is its default state. Luckily, Thomas can work with that. “I assumed people were speaking metaphorically when they used that term,” he says dryly. “Hardly my fault, as they made the mistake of speaking of you as if you were real man.”

“Instead of what?” Hamilton snaps. “Calling me an _it_ and talking about me as if I’m not truly alive?”

“Are you alive, though?” Thomas counters. “You may have some degree of sentience, but do you truly live and die like a human would? Do you think and feel, and experience the world like a human does? Are you _truly_ alive?”

Thomas can see Hamilton clench its fist around the waistcoat that it’s still holding, and has to bite back another laugh. Such a predictable reaction.

“You know _nothing_ about me,” Hamilton bites out between gritted teeth. “You may have read some of my work, but you know nothing about me.”

“I know enough,” Thomas tells him smugly. “I know you pride yourself on being better than everyone, don’t you? Smarter than everyone else, quicker and more diligent, always at your work no matter the hour… still trying to prove yourself, after all these years.” Hamilton stiffens suddenly, and Thomas smirks at him. “Yes, Hamilton, you can fool Washington into thinking that you’re just as capable of any other human, but it doesn’t matter how much you’ve accomplished or how far you’ve come. You’re nothing more than a machine with a chip on its shoulder, too busy trying to be the best at everything to realize that no matter what you do you’ll never be counted as equal among us humans.”

Hamilton is shaking again, most likely from rage but Thomas likes the idea of his words having knocked it down a peg or two quite a bit more. “I suppose I’ll see you at the cabinet meeting then,” he says, before Hamilton can come up with any retort. He brushes past the automaton, giving it a small, parting wave and chuckling to himself as he lets the door to Washington’s office close behind him.

This certainly wasn’t what Thomas expected to have to deal with, when he arrived in New York only a scant few hours earlier, but no matter. He has the measure of Hamilton well enough now, and he’ll be damned if he lets the automaton get the best of him again.

**Author's Note:**

> But little does Jefferson know that he's about to lose "Cabinet Battle #1". Never underestimate Alexander Hamilton, folks.
> 
> And I mean... Do I really have to explain that historical!TJeff was a terrible person? Because he absolutely was. If you're expecting any sort of redemption from Jefferson during the course of this series... yeah, that's not going to happen.
> 
> That being said, I really love writing musical!Jefferson? He's a dickbag, but his particular brand of maliciousness and holier-than-thou attitude is so much fun to play with, especially in contrast to automaton!Hamilton. TJeff may have blundered his way into this situation, but now that he knows what the status quo is he knows exactly what buttons to push to get Hamilton riled up.
> 
> I'm definitely looking forward to writing more of TJeff and Hamilton interacting in the future!


End file.
